


sea slug serenade

by spxcesoul



Category: Naruto
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Idk how to tag things, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Update as I go, distant mother, follows series pretty close, foreshadowing is all i know how to do, gonna be pretty long fic, lotta behind the scenes stuff, not all ocs belong to me, oc stuff - Freeform, some plot changes, will add more tags with chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:09:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27460978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spxcesoul/pseuds/spxcesoul
Summary: The story of three oddball children going through the challenges of being a shinobi. Michimi Ronseiuki from a tradition heavy blacksmithing clan, Sasayaku Yurei from a long feared mercenary clan and Keino Kowarta of a now shattered guardsmen clan all are now together as Squad  11 lead by Genma Shiranui by direct order of the 3rd hokage.--------------updates should be around every 1-2 weeks depending how much free time i have. This is a reboot of Paper Koi Fish. Sasayaku and most Yurei clan characters belong to my friend Crow uwu
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	sea slug serenade

A giant goliath of a creature sat on an even bigger wooden throne. Plants clung to the dark brown wood, growing untamed and free, creatures dwarfed by the giants wandered across its surface, untamed and wild and yet each one listened to the lord with unquestioned loyalty. The throne impossibly old, as if it was crafted from the flesh of the first tree. Despite slowly wearing down by the sands of fate and the rushing currents, it stood tall the intricate carvings of delicate flowers were lined with ethereal white. At the peak of the throne a large fruit was carved with shimmering silver. Thick roots at its base burrowed deeply into the sand breathing life into all around it. Where the roots touched large foliage, much larger than their normal counterparts. 

The creature who sat on the throne fit for naturalistic royalty, a massive hulking entity that's light shadow seemed to span half of the ocean floor itself. Clear, see through with an almost iridescent sheen to its skin that gently reflected the gentle white spidering of the light reflecting the waves way up high above them in the sea. A thick long body, entirely devoid of anything visible in the walls of its flesh, and yet as the being took a deep breath. shining yellow eyes watched in awe as slowly purple smoke flooded down its throat. filling into its odd lungs. 

The smoke was in constant motion, churning eternally as if the vapor itself was alive and sentient. Squinting slightly, pictures nearly formed in the fog, the vague shapes of humans running in a line formation before being flung into the air. Slowly the colossus exhaled, the salty water parted way with his silent command, allowing for the smoke to form into bubbles, the behemoth took its time to exhale. Five pristine bubbles slowly started to rise to the surface of the water that was ways above even the giant. 

In the almost luminescent purple smoke that writhed and thrashed in its bubble container. a fanged woman with split eyes and hair stood in the middle of an empty battlefield. Large corkscrew shaped wooden horns in bloom with leaves and flowers giving the woman an almost fae like appearance, akin to a satyr, both fierce and cunning in the mits of challenge. Across the blood soaked field a young man, posture relaxed and yet his eyes carried such heat and passion. wielding a long blade that had cut down many in its time since creation. a smirk forming on either party's lips as they charged at each other, the battle was beautiful. Each moved in perfect sync as if perfectly made for each other, every hit blocked and dodged at the last second. Who perfectly honed shinobi on opposite sides, each swing of a weapon, every handsign was a confession of pure love and adoration- the bubble popped, purple smoke rapidly rising.

The next showed a small room surrounded by candles, flickering dim light making the watcher swint to make out the details. Thin cloth pinned to the wall that would gently shift with . A small baby was born, swaddled in dull blue camo the babe cried loudly. family members surrounding the child while one split off to care for the purple haired mother. Unseen by all, a shadowed figure stood in the background. Black smoke obstructed the tall body, the shade in constant motion. another pop

the smallest bubble, showed but a flash of a picture. A man floated in the middle of the air, white skin, white hair and yet. His one red and one purple eye held so much sadness. 

In the dark of night, a woman with spiked purple hair screamed out, collapsing to her knees as slowly a man approached. Jet black hair pulled back into a spiky bun, his hand finding her shoulder as the woman sobbed, tears falling to the ground as her headband came loose. a pair of wooden horns now laying on the ground as infront of them a man with light blue hair dashed into the night. the black haired shinobi could only lean down to comfort the woman in her small hysteria.

Steam rising from the hot water of the bath house a tall man with wild white hair stood atop a frog's back, grinning like a mad man as a small boy looked up in confusion, eyebrows furrowing watching the old man do a small dance seemingly. More bewildered than impressed by such actions. 

As the last bubble popped, purple smoke eventually disappearing the hulking figure's head slowly swayd. its 'face' seemed devoid of structure, all that was truly visible was the long pipe that somehow burned underwater. Slowly chewing on the mouthpiece with unseen teeth the wood pipe shifted. 

" Time " , its voice, loud and deep, was both frightening and friendly. Slowly turning to look down at the human who sat on the back of a sea slug that while was of medium size for its age was nothing compared to its own size.

Seemingly impossibly long hair floated above them, whispering like free flowing tentacles in the seawater. Yellow eyes with faint marbling of orange looked up in awe, two fangs dug lightly into the bottom of their lip as they spoke out

" thank you, lord Otobun for this honor to watch the smoke with you " they purred softly, head bowing to the massive being who seemed to make a small sound of approval before straightening himself. Small almost pin prick black eyes looked over the horizon to the kelp forest behind him in silent and unvoiced pride.

Eyes slowly opening, gazing up to the flat colored ceiling above the bed. Another day, another ritual, 24 long hours of whatever the clan needed done. While every day the necessary rituals were done, most lasting hours all in the name of the clan ancestors. Yet every single day it became more repetitive and draining, even if the young ones heart beat solely for the clan.

The silent figure wanted nothing more than to be Kivouakian in nature. Free of the many and home only to the self, as a soft hand gently slid from the sleek black bed sheets to rest on their stomach, just above the navel. Thick ropes of blackened scar wrapped around the tan flesh, even years after its branding the wound radiated what felt like near ghostly heat. As if such a scar was not inflicted by any ties of mortal coils and rather from an entity beyond such limitations. But yet no answers would ever be listed to young ears, such were only given on times of momentum as the earth cycled once again around the grandiose giant of the sun. Perhaps next year such information would be given.

In the corner of the room, a looming figure who while outsizing them was not the largest being encountered leaned against the cool wooden wall, head hung low as if asleep standing up. The figure's body was still yet wisps of smoke hiding whatever details that could be passed at a first glance was in constant soft motion. And yet a feeling radiated off of the beings hidden flesh under such clouds of obsidian that was nothing less then welcoming at the moment.

The shades formed bumped to life when a stuffed toy was hurtled at the air, passing right through but still it woke the entity. A low grumble sounding from unseen lips, footsteps mute as his approach greatened. Slow and yet deliberate was his steps as if in another world his mere walk alone could strike either fear or respect into any near by. As his weight shifted to sit at the edge of the round bed, legs spread and falling back onto the plush mattress. yet none of the sheets shifted under him, the bed made no creek from the arrival of another.

“ Good mornin little lizard “ his voice sounded, deep and cerine, only ever comforting and soft in the presence of the younger one who still laid flat on the bed. Eyes dully gazing up at the white ceiling above “ cmon lil lizard, you got a big day “

They groaned, turning over to lay on their side. Thick locks of hair that shifted with every wave from pastel, nearly neon and white pale pink strands. “ I dont wanna get up “

Head turning to look up at them, a lighthearted chuckle escaping for just a second “ Now cmon, got no time for that “ he hummed, vaguely alluding to something that must have slipped the young ones mind.

A whine filled the air as they finally sat up with a low groan, messy bangs falling to half cover their eyes as they looked down at the black mess with a small growl. Marbled eyed glaring though not done so with any means of true hate, more so temporary and sleepy annoyance “ myehhhhh you say that like its fun, i happen to like sleeping in the sea “

None the less after a minute they crawled off of the large bed, hands moving to shift the knee length shorts and sports bra they wore to bed. Cheeks puffed as they woodenly marched over to the dresser to find todays ensemble, hands moving to pull one of the compartments over as eyes flicked to check the calendar pinned up to the back of the door with the aid of a kunai. 

Mostly the grid paper was covered in brightly colored paints to blot out the days, patterns drawn at random with messy words scribbled as reminders. The last day of the month, soon the seasons would shift and fall would be upon the land, the bright green leaves of the leaf would shift to crunchy honey brown before falling and leaving the village trees barren. And yet they loved this season most of all, it seemed so somber in nature. The slow decay and death of plant matter all around but in so many ways the beauty of both life and death was apparent to the young Ronseiuki. Perhaps it was because there were less rituals then every other season that caused this one to be their favorite, or perhaps collecting the largest and most intact leaves to use as decoration. Whatever the true reason was a small amount of excitement bubbled inside of them at the onoming change.

In one of the boxes written in big orange letters was “ HORNS “, each letter decorated with a green leaf. In an instant they jumped to life, quickly turning on their heels to face the shade figure, eyes fully open and as wide as the moon.

“ Why didnt you wake me up sooner?! “ voice squeaking in light panic, hands frantically running up into their hair. Silently thankful they washed it the night before “ Grab the brush! And my ribbon!! Quick! I have to be ready!! “

Lightly shaking his head, though the gesture was not done with any slight of disapproval but more of a joke. Slowly standing to fetch what was asked of him as the younger was quickly blurred into motion to get dressed. Struggling to pull on a pair of black pants, only to realize their other foot was standing on the leg or putting the black tank top on the wrong way round. 

Walking up behind the shade was more than gently with brushing back their hair. Nearly fatherly in a way, pure black hands gently running through the ever changing in tone hair. Unseen to any his brows furrowed, a melancholy smile forming. How much he would love to braid his beloveds pink and purple hair, the way the little lizards hair in the sunlight would reflect a sweet nectar orange with the pink. 

“ Michimi “ His voice was low, a large hand found their shoulder. No pressure, warmth or even cold by his touch and yet they could still feel it ever so lightly. Something whispered inside of his head  _ perhaps today  _ “ Do you know who i am? “ Like clock work these words would be muttered every day, with every passing worry flooded his mind that he would be forgotten, lost to time. A part of him wanted to be angry, but he never truly could be, not at them atleast. 

Every repetition of the question caused a small feeling of woe to run over “ No clue “ they mumbled in response, unable to look back and see if this was from the familiar look of disappointment they would gain from family members. The void of all his features made such feats impossible. 

\------------------

Seated on a plush pillow, the small ache of his back that came only with age. Hanging from his mouth was a lit pipe, dull gray smoke slowly exhaled with the tobacco. Large red and white hat casted a cascading shadow over his face, so early in the morning but such was the life of a Hokage. 

The large door across the room had three swift knocks before a pause. His old voice croaked out “ Enter “

Stepping inside the man quickly found himself on a knee, bowing to his higher up. A handsome face in stark contradiction to the other in the room, no signs of aging or wrinkles, any blemishes on the delicate skin. Eyes a deep chocolate brown that held a silent promise of flirtation as chin length straight hair fell over his bowed head “ You called me, lord third? “

Genma Shiranui, konoha’s finest flirt who loved nothing more in life then to spend a night with a good bottle of sake and a pretty kunoichi in his arms. Constantly in his lips was a sharp sanbon, the teasing way he would shift it in his mouth would allow anyone to tell where some of his more adult skills laid. But Genma was far more than a man willing to break hearts with promise of a more wild second date. 

In battle he was swift, cold and calculating. While nowhere near the level of Shikaku Nara he was more than capable of coming up with a plan of action. A commanding voice and a will of fire he could lead a battle, always Genma was the last man standing ready to do what needed to be done for the village. One of the 3 who were put to the hokages special guard force, a honor that when reminded of people would not need any more proof of his talents. 

The Hokage shifted his weight slightly, old hand raising to gently take the pipe from his lips with a small exhale “ i am assigning you to a special mission “

“ a special mission? “ Genma echoed, head raising as his sharp brows furrowed together with light confusion 

“ There are three special children who all become genin this year, your job will be to watch them  _ and _ teach them “ His voice lulled through the air as the clouds shifted causing the light of the room to fade away. A free hand reached over to pick up three envelopes. In large letters one name was written on each. ‘ SASAYAKU YUREI ’ ‘ MICHIMI RONSEIUKI ’ and ‘ KEINO KOWERTA ‘

Though he was shocked, Genma’s eyes were the same cool contemplation “ A jonin teacher? Me? “ in no ways did he believe he would be a good fit. Brown eyes running over the letters of each name. One of the long feared ghost clan, one from the revered black smiths and one from the broken clan. What an odd mix. “ Lord hokage- “

Hiruzen cut Genma off before he could finish “ Each one of these children have the potential to do a lot of good and alot of bad… you will bring me daily reports on their progress as shinobi and children. “ his stern yet aged voice held no signs of faltering, leaving no room to question his supreme authority. Genma could only bow his head. 

“ Yes, lord third “

With that he was handed each envelope and sent off. The Jonins brows furrowed lightly as he walked, hands stuffed in vest pockets as he walked. Lightly chewing on the wooden sanbon as he often did when deep in thought. A Yurie, a Ronseiuki and a Kowerta. The three clans that were invaluable, each one provided a much needed service, powerful shinobi and a threat. The loss of one clans influence could threaten the overall power of the world.

And yet each one was remarkably shattered.

\----------------------------

  
  


The walk up to the great hill was daunting, as if the weight of the whole world was straddle onto a small pair of shoulders. This was the day when they would finally be seen in the true light, to fit the role they were born into. 

Using chakra and making weapons seemed almost like magic. Each needing to be formed by a skilled hand, tempered and refined with time until ones chakra could take any and every shape imaginable only stopped by the limits of time and age just like the long honor of blacksmithing. 

Each and every shinobi has a favorite weapon, the kunai with a slightly longer handle that perfectly fits into their hand, a demon wind shuriken that slides out at the perfect speed within hand sign timing, a pair of knuckled blades that conducted the wind as if it was a beautiful melody of somber death. The beautiful melding of two such arts was where the Ronseiuki stood, sweetly in the middle. 

Both the ninja, and the tool. perfect symmetry.

As the young Ronseiuki walked silently side by side with the shade that had lived long before them and intended to live long after a wave of familiarity cascaded in melancholy deja vu. So many had walked these flat stone steps up the hill, linnened year long by blooming star shaped flowers. Each bud perfectly sliced in half with a pink so light in saturation nearly see through, able to see the delicate veins of the bloom. The opposite a deep and rich purple, the kind royals would bathe themselves in to flaunt both power and influence. 

Yellow eyes scanned the walls of the mountain side encompassing the delicate road leading up and up to what seemed the heavens itself. Deep scars into the rocky flesh of the mountain faces gave home to small outposts of foliage, plants clinging to the crumbling rocks in hopes of protection from the long and cold rains of night. A community growing in the echoes of pain. The farther up the more distorted it seemed reality was, a sniff to the air proved confusing. Rather than the sweet crispness that the leaf brought, air pure from the greenery, the smell of fire was all consuming. The scent was coming from the patches of grass that slowly became darker and darker in color farther up the hill, the grass cracked in spots to reveal how it burned from the inside out. But never passing on into ash to be pulled with the wind.

Finally at the summit, a large tree stood proud, roots splintering all over the small circular peak. What light shimmered between the silver leaves and peculiar flowers took on a seemingly sweeter tone, as if casted with pure love down to the earth. A sacred location, said to be guarded by a beast who burned the grass a deep black a rage one day when a traveler stole something precious to him. A statue of a tigress carved out of flawless pink spinel. The beast scorched everything around him until the statue was brought back to him, slashing down the traveler the beast used the blood to water the seed of a tree and crushed the bones as fertilizer before the beast bore his way into the earth to sleep, eternally protecting what he loved and cherished most, the statue of a tigress in motion. 

The shades hand met Michimi’s shoulder, the weight of his hand rubbing against the fabric caused their body to wobble side to side lightly though all done in a fatherly manner. A conscious effort to channel chakra so they could actually feel his motions. Hidden eyes looked up with joy, if only he was able to stay here forever. Even if the years had been cruel and lonely his heart swelled knowing that this tree in its divine motherly love would stand through the trials of time. 

Wide eyed took in every detail as if it would be the last sight before their eyes were taken away to be left in the dark. Silently counting the peaks of each leaf, how many clung to each tree branch that gracefully spread out to catch the most sunlight possible, the small buds of blooming flowers a bright green as they were nurtured by the tree.

A voice cut through the silence “ well kiddo? What cha waiting for? “

“ oh right! “ clearing their throat Michimi reached into their pocket, pulling out their headband. In the middle of the thin metal plate was the symbol of the leaf, ever growing and learning the village was all they ever knew, all they thought they needed to know.

Their footsteps seemed to echo as they approached the base of the tree, kneeling against some roots as the headband was placed onto their laps. A small breath was taken, then a nod. The ritual, a right of passage for the clan.

“ She who carved the world from trees, eternal in her youth, a status to us all, the first of a long line. I, Michimi Ronseiuki offer my chakra to you, Kayomi Ronseiuki, the first paragonic legend of the clan, to judge. May i be proven in your dual eyes and guarded by your loving embrace “

Palms pressed flat against the cool bark, chakra pooling as the tree seemed to feed off of it. Feverishly devouring the young ones offering. Yellow eyes squeezed shut as they slowly pushed forward, so many Ronseiuki have done this before them, Michimi could practically feel their presence. The echoes of their chakra pushing forward alongside Michimi in this silent judgement. 

The wind whistled a soft melody through the shimmering leaves and in an instant, without realization, the tree gave way. Lightly gasping as eyes fluttered open, bark softening under their very fingers. Taking two fist fulls and slowly pulling back, the wood in their hands seemed almost like clay. Eyes closing in silent focus, what seemed like a small eternity passed before they were done.

The symbol of the Ronseiuki, wooden horns worn with pride, a symbol of their shinobi devotion to the village hidden in the leaves. No more than three inches in length a pair of smooth horns now rested in their hands, abit to thick to fully wrap their hand around, tips smooth and sleek. On the left, near the top was a single crisp green leaf.

The shade peeked from over their shoulders, humming a soft note of approval “ they suit you “

Setting the horns to rest against their head, pinned to the blue fabric of the headband before being tied off in the back. Calm and cool as they stood up, turning to look down from the hill as if the scope of this achievement had not yet registered. A minute passed before all of a sudden they jumped into the air “ i did it i did it i did it! “ they yelled out. Running down the hill, wind catching in their hair, ribbons trailing behind them in the breeze. “ i really did it! Im really a ninja! “

It wasnt uncommon to see Michimi dashing through the streets of the village, today was like any other in that regard. But as the village folk saw the new addition to their outfit some cheered as others happily yipped out congratulations. Tears of joy brimmed in their eyes as they bolted home, practically tripping over their feet as they came to a harsh stop into the gates of the clan home where 17 people stood in wait.

Many of them erupted into loud joy, the child being tossed into the air in celebration. Standing away from the merriment was a bitter woman with sharp dull purple hair, red eyes rolling as she turned, unwilling to find happiness for her own child in the moment. Michimi was never enough to satisfy her hate, any time those red eyes gazed down at her youngest child there was nothing but disappointment. A hole that needed to be filled but Michimi no matter what would never be enough. But at least for right now in the moment the young one was oblivious as words of familial affection were chirrped to the heavens.

Carried by the family inside the large house, walls cluttered with hung up pictures, weapons and art all hung with purpose and care. Brought down a long hallway Michimi was finally set down infront of a large red door, in the middle was a gray circle that had a spinning black pattern that laced in and out in a circular motion. Hand flattening against the cool wood before pushing forward.

The biggest rooms in the house were dedicated to one of four people that have become pillars of the clan, paragons to look up to and strive to become. This room was dedicated to Ryouma, the dragon of white flames. To the Ronseiuki he was a perfectly sharpened weapon, a blade that would hack and slash with seraphic perisision. While anyone in his path was subject to his path of destruction Ryouma was tempered by his love of Kayomi. Only she could bring the dragon to rest in her loving embrace, together they were a force to be reckoned with. Their union brought untold prosperity to the blacksmithing clan. Now, years after Kayomi’s death and his disappearance they revered the man as a god among men. When Ronseiuki came of age the tips of their ribbons were dipped in red ink to ask for his blessing.

Bowing their head, small footsteps echoed through the room as they walked in. Michimi silent, the room was so familiar so many hours were spent in the room praying to Ryouma for comfort, despite the stories that described him as a beast, a monster of sorts that would kill and rips the souls out of the very people he slaughtered, Michimi lived to believe that he was really a sweet man who only did what he had to do to survive. 

The room smelt like dragons blood incense, he was the protector of the clan and it only seemed fitting. The room decorated with weapons he had used, blades still stained with blood, metal lightly scorched by his fire. In the middle of the room was a plush red pillow infront of a table with bowls full of ash to burn offerings or cups of tea and rice. In the middle was a special bowl with silver patterns over its outside, a red liquid filled the inside. From the door frame the clan watched silently as a finger dipped into the bowl, hand raising to drag it against their bottom lip. Ash, blood, the juice of many berries and herbs all crushed together to make such an ink. 

Drawing runes and swirls with the ink against their tan arms, all while humming a soft melody before transitioning into a verse. Their voice vibrated lightly through the air, sweet and silk

" Dragon of  Shinokuni

Eternal in your searing rage

Fighting till the end of days

Screaming to the moonlight night 

Wars fought to pay your plight

Guide us home with your flames

Hopeful till the end of days

Ryouma the dragon lord

Red hot steel and ice cold scorn "

By the time the last line was sung the ends of their ribbon was guided into the bowl, fabric easily soaking up the ink. Turning it upside down so it dried in sharp gagged lines. This being repeated with both ends of their headbands ribbons. 

Meditating for a long minute before finally standing, yellow eyes locking up on the gouache painting of the man. Fiery red hair that was both fluffy and almost spiked, intense gray eyes that picked up every detail, sleek jawline. By every facet he was a handsome man, Kayomi was a lucky woman to be with him. In Michimi’s eyes they saw his painting as a stand in for a father, making up situations in their mind how he would pick them up on his shoulders and run around the forest with them. Alone he would be sweet and kind with his little spawn, ruffle their hair with a teasing smirk and threaten to kill any boy or girl that even tried to pick on them. But sadly reality was never fully what Michimi wanted.

Turning to face their clan, a faux smile filled with pride and light beamed. Today was the day, truly a shinobi, maybe now they could be the person everyone wanted them to be.


End file.
